my religion is you
by billiespiper
Summary: they were never really experts on love, anyway. oneshot, rated t.


**title: **my religion is you

**summary: **they were never really experts on love, anyway.

**rating: **T cause i kinda cuss a lot?

**sixteen, just going through the motions.**

There's a girl looking out across the water, watching bugs skirt over the calm lake. A boy is sitting next to her, silence hot and heavy between them. She's angry, he's angry. Loud voices echo around the clearing, the girl now on her feet, hands clenched into fists at her side. The boy is looking at her desperately, trying to find some of the _spark_ they once had, trying to find some of the _magic_, the _love_.

(_They were never really experts on love, anyway_)

:: :: :: :: ::

**twenty-two, so full of hope.**

He's married, she's divorced. His wife has sparkling eyes and tan skin. Her husband left her the second a baby was added to the mix. Five months pregnant, now. His wife, too. But unlike her, his household is filled with baby presents and cribs and strollers. Hers is littered with cigarette trays and discarded bottles of alcohol.

She needs to dull the pain, needs to find some way to make it through. Doctors tell her that her baby will be disabled if she drinks, if she smokes. But she isn't very well known for giving a shit, is she? Still, each time the cool glass reaches her hungry lips, she can't bring herself to part them and let the pungent beer wash down her throat. She just can't ruin her kid's life like her mother ruined hers.

He tells himself he's happy. His wife floats around on tiptoes, a bubbling laugh escaping her mouth, and he smiles along, watching as the sunlight filtering through the windows hits her hair. But he can't stop thinking about harsh kisses and dark lipstick smearing his lips. He wonders if she's forgotten about him, decides she definitely has, she's better off without him.

(_But his face will never, ever leave her mind_)

:: :: :: :: ::

**twenty-seven, trying to be parents.**

They have a boy and a girl (respectively) symmetrical, isn't it? Jet-black hair, pale skin. He's handsome, she's beautiful. They both wince when they see the small resemblances to each other that nobody else would've noticed (_the little girl smirks, despite her being five years old. the boy hunches his shoulders up when he laughs, head tilted towards the sun_). He links hands with his wife, hugs her to his chest, but he can't seem to make their bodies _fit_ together the way he used to with _her_. Her fingers are always around a bottle of grey goose, knuckles turning white on frosted glass.

The first time her daughter asks her where her daddy is, she slaps her. The girl runs off crying, and she presses the heel of her palm into her eyes, blurring her vision. She can hear her daughter sobbing, and she just wants it all to _go. away._ She wants the haunting nightmares to stop, the flashes of past memories (hand in hand, walking down the boulevard) to fucking disappear from her mind. But they don't. They loom over her head like a shadow, causing her grip to tighten (if that's even possible) on the only thing she really knows anymore: alcohol.

When his little boy asks who his first love was (is?), his wife is sitting right across from him. She stares at him, holding his gaze with piercing brown eyes until he blinks, looking down at their child. He can still feel her eyes burning into his back. Every molecule of his body makes him want to scream _her_ name, but instead he pats Little Oliver on the back and smiles "Your mother, of course."

(_Both of their lives are a fucking lie, aren't they?_)

:: :: :: :: ::

**thirteen, falling into a rabbit hole.**

She stares at him, eyelashes fluttering against her cheek. He winks, a smile pulling one of his lips up. She feels her mouth twitch, but keeps the grin off her face. When he reaches forward to brush hair from her eyes, she flinches, head jolting backwards. Uncertainty is clear in his motions, but he continues to smile.

She's broken, not like a plank of wood, but like glass. Shattered and fragmented with no hope of repair. Everything about her is _wrong_. From her clothing to her personality. _Unlovable, unlovable, unlovable._ She thinks that maybe he can find all the pieces of her and glue them together, but her mother has taught her never to love.

Privileged, oh so privileged, with neat lunches packed in tin boxes and polo shirts ironed _so carefully_. She's just so different, with translucent skin and lips painted with black. She's simply unattainable, so automatically he _has_ to have her. Everything is handed to him on a platter, but she's so hard to get. She's a challenge, and he won't back down from a challenge.

(_Little did they know that a challenge would leave their lives spiraling down._)

:: :: :: :: ::

**nine, just starting out.**

Their swings just happen to be next to each other. It's just fate, nothing more and nothing less. Her feet scrape on the ground, the toe of her shoe making unintentional patterns in the dirt. There's a track of tears sliding down her face, and he's staring at her. She flinches, ever so slightly, under his gaze. "What do you want?" She spits. He doesn't answer her question, just sticks out his hand to her. "Hi!"

She wonders if this boy is playing a game with her. What does he mean, hi? This is the part where he runs away, this is when he leaves and never looks back. This is when he forgets about her. Isn't it? You wonder why he isn't going. It's not like he cares, it's not like anybody fucking cares about _her_. The reject. The freak.

She's strange, he thinks. Kind of scary. But he wants to get to know her, and she just looks so _sad_, so lost. Her hair is covering her face, but he can tell from the sounds she's making, from her labored breathing and occasional sniffle that she's been crying. So instead of going to eat his sandwich (edges cut off, two slices of turkey, a leaf of lettuce, a slice of cheese and just a dab of mayo, please?) he juts out his hand to her and introduces himself.

(_They're imperfectly perfect for each other_)

:: :: :: :: ::

**thirty-eight, not quite the same.**

They're stunned. Too shocked to speak. It's not like they're seeing _each other_ necessarily, but it's certainly the next best thing. Her piercings and streaks line up the way _hers_ did. His hair gets in his eyes, and his white teeth stick out against his skin the way _his_ did. He smiles for his son, shakes hands with his girlfriend. She just stares at the two of them, their hands linked together and knows that they're destined for a fall.

"What did you say your name was?" He doesn't want to know the answer, can't hear the response. "Jade West," He knew it. He right fucking knew it. Just the way her eyes danced like fire when she watched his son, the way she rolled her eyes, the way she concealed her smiles with pursed lips and furrowed eyebrows. His hands tremble, and his wife is glaring at the girl, already hating her with a burning passion because she's the _daughter_ of that _bitch_ who almost stole away Simon from her. But Beck is stroking a thumb over their intertwined fingers and Katie just wants to puke at the sight of "young love". She wonders if maybe, just maybe this is how Simon felt with Ruby.

"What did you say your name was?" Same sentence, different time, different place. Ruby's managed to lift some remembrance up through a drunken haze, and see that this boy is _just_ like Simon. "Beck Oliver." Beck. What a funny name. She's certain Katie's chosen it, because she knows Simon would name his child something like Nick or Alex. Not Beck. She looks up in time to see him kissing her cheek, lips lingering against her skin. And Jade smiles. _Smiles. _Ruby hasn't been able to make Jade smile since she was two.

(_And she knows it's just because she wasn't trying hard enough.)_

:: :: :: :: ::

**five, splintering at the ends.**

Her eyelids are closed, but she can still see the white flashes through the layer of skin. Her grip tightens on her mommy's hand, nails digging deep into flesh. Pain rips across her skin, fire scorching the little hairs on her arm. He's pushing his sleeves up and wrapping his fingers around his mommy and daddy's, bowing his head in a silent grace. He can feel the silence between them, the distrust and the hatred. Even at the ripe age of five, he wonders if they love each other anymore.

She buries her head in her mommy's floral apron. It smells like cookies and pies, savory and sweet. Her fingers twist around the drawstrings, letting them cut into her fingers, turning them blue with the lack of blood circulation. One wet teardrop falls on her head, her mother cries out only one time. Ruby can feel something sticky on her hand. She doesn't want to know what it is...

He's five when he finds his dad cheating on his mom. The moans and groans mean nothing to him (_he's so young, after all. so innocent_). The only thing that matters is that mommy has blonde hair. Long, soft blonde hair that smells like strawberries and grapefruit. His dad has his legs intertwined around a woman with jet black curls that tumble across his face. Immediately, his father gets up and smacks him across the face. His cheeks sting, and he can smell alcohol looming over his mouth as his father bends down to shake his shoulders.

(_And all the fake smiles and laughs don't make up for blood running down your back or cheeks stinging sharply_)

:: :: :: :: ::

**sixty-one, just fucking fading.**

Months of treatments, sharp needles poking into the skin on his back. Salt tears sliding from the slopes of noses and down onto his hands and hospital gown. It's so dismal now, dark and dim. The light has disappeared from the end of the t u n n e l... Wild fits of coughing, blood spotting a white lace handkerchief (stolen from the dollar store; isn't that lovely?). Jade slipping from her life. She takes another bottle from the fridge [one, two, three, four, how many does it take for me to forget?] and presses it up against her cheek. It's the one thing that hasn't left her yet.

It's expected. Everyone knew it was coming. His family even gets to say their last goodbyes (_he tries to ignore that it's the first time he's seen Beck cry since he was six_). Everyone wears black to the funeral, gauzy veils covering tired eyes and running mascara. Gloved fingers link in silent prayer, and as he's watching it happen [from heaven or hell?] all he can think is liars. Filthy fucking liars. He searches the crowd for a girl clad in eyeliner and studs, but can't seem to find her. That's when she appears from behind him, breath tickling the hairs on his neck. He takes her into his arms and kisses her, because that's what they were meant to do. It doesn't matter that he's dead, she's dead. They're together. Forever.

Everybody knew it would happen, but nobody fucking acted. They just stood there with hands in pockets and disapproving looks painted heavily onto their faces. Jade arrived home from school with no intentions of staying for long (_She was planning to r u n_). Her mother was slumped against the stove, her one and only man resting besides her. She grabbed her phone and dialed 911 with shaky fingers. A hand twists around Ruby's wrist, and Jade's crying. Fucking crying. Tears splinter onto the floor. Cherry red lights bounce off the glass of the house and Jade kicks the Jack Daniels bottle away furiously.

Jade and Beck are the only two to go to her funeral. She's dressed in all white [never one for tradition] and he's wearing a sensible suit. She wants to scream at them. _Love never lasts! Give up while you're ahead._ But she's gone now. No revival.

She sees him looming over the guardrails. His eyes are closed and there's no visible expression on his face. The best thing she can think to do is kiss him. So she does.

(_The only people they were meant to love was each other_)

:: :: :: :: ::

**a/n: no, just no. don't even say anything. i think it started out alright, but i lost all of my creativity as time went on and... this hot mess resulted. MAJOR format creds due to Makato Mai, SORRY FOR STEALING IT D: **

**didya think it was jade and beck at first? lawlz, the cleverness of me. haha just kidding everyone hates me... anyway.**


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